


Kiss later

by Anonymous



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anyways this might be the fluffiest purest minsung ive ever written lads, Boys Kissing, It’s still the 25th where i live hehe, Lets suspend our disbelief and pretend this counts as a bday special ok? Ok, M/M, Minho bday special?? Minho bday special!!, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, minho is whipped for Jisung what a surprise, so if a lot of spoken dialogue looks familiar that might be why wink wonk, this takes place during and after minsungs two kids room ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 04:03:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21173120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “2 plus—you should look into my eyes! Come here!”Minho must have attempted to look away again; goddamn his stupid subconscious stupidly trying to make his stupid on-screen persona look like hedoesn’twant to take in everysecondof Han Jisung.Although maybe his subconious isn’t as dumb as he thought.Because Jisung then took it upon himself to cup Minho’s cheeks, keeping his face effectively trained solely on the rapper before him. Minho very acutely felt his heart temporarily cease beating in his chest.Based on the infamous and seemingly random cut in Minsung’s Two Kids Room ep, and whatmighthave happened to warrant that cut.





	Kiss later

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Thanks for checking out my fic! As mentioned in the summary, this is based ENTIRELY on minsung’s two kids room ep—literally, like 100% of spoken dialogue before the cut (you’ll know when that is, trust) is word for word what minsung actually said during the ep! So yeah, if u haven’t watched that I’d highly recommend doing so before reading! Here’s a [link](https://youtu.be/QbntPEr7I9c) to the episode! 
> 
> Happy birthday minho, I love you so much and you are such an inspiration to me. Thank you for everything, best friend. #KeepMinhoWeird

“I’ll give you a 1:1 lesson.” Drawled Jisung, in that usual nonchalant lilt of his. He clambered onto his knees, bringing Minho up to the same position with him. 

The grey hoodie he’s wearing is—unsurprisingly—oversized, and seems to swallow Jisung’s slight frame whole. His golden hair is perfectly parted, with nary a processed strand out of place. How Jisung’s bleached hair still manages to look as healthy as his pre-treated tresses is a mystery wrapped in an enigma to Minho.

But then again, so is Han Jisung himself. 

“I’ll sit on my hands, since I could try to hit you.” Minho shot back, his sharp eyes as sly and wicked as ever. And he did just that, wiggling about on their shared sofa so his hands are nestled firmly beneath his muscular calves. 

It’s a bit of an exaggeration; but then again, a majority of their on-camera banter is. Minho would never _actually_ hit Jisung, in spite of his often overdone and equally cringe-worthy aegyo. It’s just Minho playing it up for the cameras, like they always do. And today is no different. They’re filming a new series for their fans—called Two Kids Room—and management for _some_ _reason_ chose Minho and Jisung as the pairing for the second episode. 

He feels the unmistakable pressure to do well. It's the physical kind of pressure that roosts on your shoulders and whispers cruel nothings in your ears. But he’s not nervous, despite the harsh studio lighting and veritable army of chunky cameras trained on their every move. Minho is never nervous, when Jisung is involved. 

It’s as if Jisung is a living representation of their current situation: the two boys are squished together on the far end of a modest couch—in spite of the majority of the furniture being left available—sat in a mock-living room. Jisung has always been one for skinship; for pressing bodies together until it’s nigh impossible to tell where one boy’s skin ends and the other’s begins. The room is colored mossy green, a color Minho can’t help associating with mushy peas, with a litany of Avengers merchandise peppering the walls alongside an accenting bright blue locker. It’s homey and cozy, and conducive to letting your guard down. 

But that’s the _point_. The room is fake, a sham, _created_. Just outside the boundaries of the faux-living room is a pack of hard-eyed managers scrutinizing their every action, as if the intimidating studio cameras trained on their interaction aren’t imposing enough. 

And then there’s Jisung. Smiling, grinning, _beaming_ Jisung. Jisung might as well be an open book personified, his heart might as well be stapled onto his sweatshirt’s breast, his emotions might as well be proudly sewn to the hem of his sleeves. Jisung is as if sincerity was boiled down into its purest form and injected beneath a human’s pores. Jisung can’t just_ “put it on”_ for the cameras, like Minho can. While Minho can up his snark and dry wit for the sake of his company sanctioned persona, that simply is not in Jisung’s proverbial programming. 

In their current landscape of artificial homeliness and sterile perfection, Jisung is wild-eyed enthusiasm and genuine joy that can’t be faked for a camera. 

With Jisung, what you see is what you get. And what you get is child-like giggles, impish mischief, and a smile so ever present and bright it might as well be pinned onto his heart-shaped lips with invisible thumb tacks. 

Jisung is lopsided grins and the perfectly imperfect crook in his front tooth. He’s everything their industry isn’t, and it’s one of the (seemingly endless) reasons Minho found himself falling for the rapper. 

Except, he would never admit to that. Ever. 

Case and point: why Minho decided his best course of action in order to spare Jisung’s body his wrath is to sit on his hands. 

Because Jisung—in true _Jisung fashion_—thought the best content for episode two of Two Kids Room is to boldly do _gwiyomi_, right in Minho’s face. And he _means_ it when he says_ “right in his face”_, given how the pair are scrunched together at the arm of the ample sofa cushions. 

“I hope you sit on your legs too, because I think you might kick me.” Jisung fired back, his eyes alight with an almost tangible spark of happiness. If Minho so desired, he swears he could reach out a hand and pluck a bauble of pure light from Jisung’s eyes. But of course, he didn’t. 

“I’ll accept it with a humble posture.” Minho replied without missing a beat, adjusting his current positioning so he’s sandwiching his hands onto the toned flesh of his calves; effectively putting Jisung’s body in the clear. 

After a few more..._precautions_ on Jisung’s part—_read: _placing a bunch of plush pillows around Minho’s frame so he doesn't break his self-imposed restraints—he deemed this shit-show ready to start. 

“Okay,” Jisung giggled, and Minho swears his heart started to race like a wild stallion in his chest. Stray Kids may live, breath and eat everything _music_, but Minho would be remiss to find something more dulcet than Jisung’s laughter. 

It was at this point Minho must have unconsciously tried to avert his eyes. 

“You should keep your eyes open.” Jisung mused, shifting on his haunches and locking his gaze with Minho’s. The dancer’s previously idle gaze, which is now focused solely on _Jisung, Jisung, Jisung._

His rounded cheeks that contrast with the sharp styling of his blonde hair, his heart-shaped smile that looks straight out of an 80’s anime, his eyes that twinkle and shine and might as well give off their own source of light. Feathery eyelashes perfect for butterfly kisses, and planes of golden skin that begs to be ravished. 

Minho tried to look away, but his eyes kept fluttering back to the rapper like a moth to a flame. His lips twitched up into a barely restrained smile, one that he knows must look nothing short of love-struck on camera. And maybe a little dopey; Jisung has that effect on people. Or, at least he does on Minho. 

“1 plus 1 is cutie pie!” Jisung cooed, pressing his fingers into his pudgy cheeks and rhythmically bopping his head in turn. 

He also took it upon himself to shove his (beautiful) face directly into Minho’s, as if their already close proximity wasn’t good enough. 

Or maybe he just wants to make Minho suffer. In which case, he’s doing a very good job. 

Minho could _feel_ his smile trying to fully overtake his expression, and it took everything in his power to keep his lips from bunching his features into a cheek-splitting grin. He can feel the corners of his lips upturning, and he’s officially on the losing-side of his internal battle to keep a stoic expression.

God, Jisung is so _cute_. It’s not fair! How did the staff put him in this situation and not expect Minho to fully fall in love with him?! 

As if Minho wasn’t already a tiny, minuscule, totally imperceptible bit in love with Jisung.

“2 plus—you should look into my eyes! Come here!” 

Minho must have attempted to look away again; goddamn his stupid subconscious stupidly trying to make his stupid on-screen persona look like he _doesn’t_ want to take in every _second_ of Han Jisung. 

Although, maybe his subconious isn’t as dumb as he thought. 

Because Jisung then took it upon himself to cup Minho’s cheeks, keeping his face effectively trained solely on the rapper before him. Minho very acutely felt his heart temporarily cease beating in his chest. 

Sure, Minho and Jisung are nothing short of surgically attached at the dorms, and are constantly cuddling or holding hands or even..._smooching_, if luck is in their favor and the other members are preoccupied. 

But even the smallest, most _innocent_ of contact that is Jisung’s hands cradling his cheeks is enough to make Minho _lose his mind. _

In fact, the little cartoon caricature of Minho at the helm of his subconscious just slapped a glowing red panic button entitled _“Jisung is touching you!”_. Metaphorical sirens blared through the folds of his brain. Mini-Minho is short circuiting; his usual white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel of Minho’s mind becoming weak and clammy. 

With just a simple touch, Minho is a _goner_. If only Jisung knew the power he holds over the poor dancer. 

Although, given the feather-soft sensation of Jisung’s hands—which perpetually feel enrobed in gossamer mittens—are swaddling Minho's cheeks, maybe he is in fact privy to how the dancer is truly wrapped hopelessly around his finger. 

Jisung’s hands are so _warm_, like hot water bottles or a knit blankets or something equally inanimate that shouldn’t belong attached to a human being. 

Their eyes met, and time seemed to stop. The world around them faded to a rosy pink, the managers and the red-lights of the rolling cameras all vanished from view until they perceived nothing but _each other. _

Minho stared into Jisung’s eyes, and they appeared on the cusp of pleading. The rapper’s hands are still softly cradling the intersection between Minho’s jaw and his cheeks, and he officially _can’t take it anymore._

It’s all too much, too many feelings all converging at once in Minho’s rapidly malfunctioning brain. There’s only one thing he wants to do, only one thing he _has_ to do, if the husk of his once coherent thoughts mean anything. 

And so he acted on that incarnate desire. 

He darted forward, and slotted his lips with Jisung’s. 

The kiss wasn’t sloppy or heated, or even overtly needy. But Jisung’s glossed lips instantly melted into Minho’s, with such tenderness and familiarity it made Minho’s knees weak. 

His knees which are still awkwardly bent in order to stop his hands from smacking Jisung’s aegyo out of existence. Not like he would ever, _willingly_, try to cut Jisung’s overpowering cuteness short.

Speaking of which;

“Cut!” The director shouted, successfully rousing the two boys from their reverie. Oh right, they’re filming. 

_Oh_. They’re _filming_. 

Oops? 

“Nice job, Minho hyung.” Jisung jeered, yet his smile is completely good natured. And maybe, if Minho were to be totally honest, a little love-struck. And dopey. 

He would know more than anyone. 

“Are you really complaining, ‘Sungie?” Minho didn’t miss a beat. He never does with Jisung; they bounce off each other like a never ending game of ping pong, hitting back with perfectly matched wit without a second passing between. 

At least Jisung had the decency to blush. “No, I’m not.” He mumbled, his glittering eyes shooting off to one of the piles of camera wires outside their homey little sanctuary. 

Minho had a feeling he’d say that.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

“Oh my go—Look what you did, Minho hyung!” Jisung groused, pausing the video playing on his laptop and leveling Minho with an unimpressed glower.

“Because you kissed me, now there’s a weird cut in our episode!” The rapper continued, huffing like a child in a tantrum while crossing his arms over his chest. 

Minho rolled his eyes, snuggling closer to Jisung. The two had migrated into Minho’s bed in order to check out their debut episode of Two Kids Room, and at about 10 seconds in they were already nothing more than tangle of intertwined limbs. 

“It’s just a cut, Jisung. Is it the end of the world or something?” 

He has to admit, the cut in their episode is a little awkward, and more than a bit out of place. He wonders what the fans will think; if they even notice, after all. 

“Yes! W-well, no, but still! It’s—”

Minho shut Jisung up by surging up to lock his lips with the younger rapper’s. Life imitates art imitates life—or something like that. 

All Minho knows is that Jisung’s lips taste like convenience store peppermint gum and the creamy tang of cheesecake, and he’s nothing short of _addicting._

“You talk too much, Jisung.” Minho teased with a devilish smirk, once he forced himself to pull away. It took more willpower than he would’ve liked. 

Even in the darkness surrounding Minho’s bed, the scarlet flush painting Jisung’s cheeks is glaringly apparent. Like the residual ruby embers of a snuffed out campfire airbrushed his skin, like fresh strawberries were tattooed onto the supple flesh. 

“I’ll always talk too much, if it gets you to kiss me to shut me up.” Jisung grumbled, crumpling into Minho’s side and burying his face in the dancer’s neck. Warm, Jisung is so warm. 

It’s nothing short of entrancing. 

“I can deal with that, I suppose.” Minho replied, finding Jisung’s hand under the covers and knitting their fingers together. Jisung didn’t respond; he chose to hum into the sculpted junction of Minho’s neck instead. Vibrations rippled from the back of Jisung’s throat through Minho’s bones, and he feels distinct notes of love in the monotone grumble. Trust Minho when he says he speaks _fluent_ Jisung. 

Will the managers _ever_ allow Jisung and Minho to film alone again? In the wake of their less than professional behavior during the shoot, probably not. Can Minho deal with that as well, if it means he can kiss Jisung whenever he wants without worry?

Gladly. 

**Author's Note:**

> minho: *blinks*  
me: *GASP* DID YOU??? DID U S E E THAT?? DID U SEE THE ABSOLUTE HUMAN EMBODIMENT OF BEAUTY THAT IS LEE MINHO? DID U SEE HIS FUCKIN *deep breath* E Y E L I D S 
> 
> Yeah i love minho happy birthday angel
> 
> My [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimnamjin/pseuds/chronosaurus)


End file.
